Darkest Dawn
by rosegirl220
Summary: Sequel to "Dark Harvest". It is now months after the grisly murders that took place in the small town of Colorado, and Pete is now under Mike's ruling thumb to save the remaining two friends he has. Can he keep up the charade, or will he fail miserably in the end? (Rating M for dark themes in later chapters)
1. From Nightmares to Reality

His scream cut through the sick silence of the night, and from his bed, Pete shot up in a cold sweat. His breath was coming out in short, desperate gasps, and in his ribcage, he felt his heart hammer against his chest as if he'd just finished running a marathon. Vivid images from the nightmare he'd just awoken from were still fresh in his mind, and he felt himself trembling slightly from pure terror.

It was the same nightmare that had been haunting the Goth's dreams ever since the cult-like killings that occurred no more than a few months ago.

It would always start off the same way. Pete would be walking through a graveyard when he'd come upon the tombstone of his deceased kindergarten friend; the very person he considered a little brother. The Goth would then approach the stone, rose in hand, and it was when he was just mere inches from it that a small hand would suddenly spring forth from the ground. Pete would then watch in horrified dismay as the now rotting body of Firkle would drag itself up from the ground, and his yellow eyes would glare at him. Pete would try to run, but fear would grip him in place. He'd then stand helplessly as the kindergartner continued to inch closer, and all along the way, he'd hear the small child's voice talking to him; saying that he was supposed to protect him. That it was his job to keep him from harm, and that he had failed miserably.

It was be shortly after this, when the zombie was about to strike, that he'd wake up screaming.

Of course, it wasn't always Firkle who was the undead attacker in his nightmare. When it wasn't the kindergartner, it would often be Craig, and other times it'd be Tweek. On a few occasions Butters had appeared as the undead assailant, and only twice had it been Bradley. He'd yet to see Bloodrayne as a walking corpse, however, but he would sometimes hear her pained screams in the background when one of the undead was limping toward him.

"I've gotta stop these nightmares." Pete mumbled as he flopped back onto his pillows.

Of course deep down, he knew any efforts toward this would prove useless. He couldn't talk about it to a therapist or any other adult under threat of execution by Mike, he was forbidden to talk to his friends under the same punishment, and all of Mike's other minions he was allowed to talk to would be unsympathetic or too stupid to comprehend his feelings.

The best he could do was just push it out of his mind, and pretend nothing was wrong.

He then shifted onto his side, and inches from his face, there was a familiar set of red-contact-colored eyes staring back at him. Again, his heart rate spiked and he nearly jumped out of bed. "How the fuck did _you_ get here?!"

"You _invited _me. Now stop your screaming. You wouldn't want to wake mommy dearest, would you?" Mike murmured, his voice low and unnerving.

Pete said nothing; eyeing the intriguing vamp leaders every move carefully.

The vampire stood from the Goth's bed before speaking again. "I expect to see you _in school_ today. Not out back smoking," he ordered.

"Is that the only reason you showed up at this ungodly hour?" Pete sneered; almost offended by the others words. "Just to tell me to go to fucking class?"

Mike ignored the question. "Also, when you see your "buddies", you're not to tell them anything, or there will be punishment."

"What do you think I am, stupid?" Pete asked; his sneers never leaving his features. "I know our arrangement, and you don't need to keep reminding me of it."

"It's the first day back to school. I thought I would give you a refresher." The faux-vampire gave a slight grin, his fake fangs glinting in the dark. "Because if you forget, your mother would have to pay for your bad memory."

Pete froze; his skin visibly going pale. "Wait...she was never a part of our deal."

"People are getting curious. I have to take some steps for... insurance." he replied, waving it off as if it were as common as going to the gas station - so casually it sent chills down Pete's spine.

"You leave her out of this." Pete hissed; the words coming out a bit more pitiful than he'd like. "This is just between us; she has no place in it!"

Mike tilted his head to one side. "Haven't you noticed that she is fond of our 'friendship'? She likes the idea that you have a 'good' friend that isn't a complete waste of life. This notion will ruin her if you don't prevent it… That being said, I have new demands."

Pete wanted to scream at the vampiric leader at that moment, enraged that he would even consider hurting as someone as meek and kind as his mom, but for whatever reason some part of him knew that that, for him, there was no say.

"...Fine." The Goth mumbled. "Just tell me what they are."

"Find new targets. The supply is running low."

"I thought you had other brutish lackies to do that kind of grunt work. Like Vladimir or Fang." Pete said in a rather dry tone.

"They're becoming notorious. People are noticing that the same two people are in the area of the kidnappings. No one expects you. Maintaining a low profile is key," Mike muttered, far too _close_ to Pete than was comfortable.

"...whatever." Pete finally mutters out; knowing he had no other option. The goth attempted to back away from his pursuer, but found with every step he took, Mike matched it. "Dude. Personal space, please?" The Goth said in a bland, almost snarkish tone.

The vamp gave a low chuckle. "I _own_ you, Pete. What personal space?"

The Goth wanted to tell Mike off, to possibly save the last shred of dignity and integrity he had left in his body, but the threat on both his friends' _and _mother's lives made just mere minutes ago made him bite his tongue. So, instead, Pete just let his ga_ze _drop to the floor - lowering his head in a clearly submissive motion.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I asked you a question." Mike said after a few minutes of silence. He then suddenly grabbed the Goth's chin in a harsh manner, and tilted his whole head so that their eyes locked. "There. Now let's try this again. _What_ personal space?"

Pete winced a bit at the others threatening tone before finally getting out, "...there is...none."

"No _what_?"

"There is no personal space...master." Pete whispered out.

"That's better." Mike smirked; his fangs once again glistening in the moonlight that leaked into the room from the window.

Before Pete could comprehend, he felt Mike's lips press against his. He knew better than to try and fight him by now. The Goth stood there as still as a statue as the faux-vampire continued to forcibly kiss him - Mike's tongue eventually finding it's way into Pete's mouth without any resistance.

"...Pete? Are you up? It's way past bedtime." A tired female voice came through the halls.

The goth couldn't remember the last time he was so happy to hear his mothers voice.

Mike pulled away and swore softly under his breath. "You got lucky, Pete. See you tomorrow."

The vamp leader then made a quick exit out the nearby window near Pete's bed, and the Goth had to stand still in the darkness for awhile.

In the few short months since he began his servitude, he had always felt awkward and uncomfortable when Mike forcibly kissed him. Granted, it hadn't exactly been that many times, but it was still surprising none the less. Perhaps it was the memory of his treatment of poor Tweek before he died that gave their kissing that dreadful touch of unease.

Or maybe it was because deep down, Pete knew that he sort of liked getting kissed by the psychopathic vampire leader.

The Goth then shook his head of the thought, and quickly crossed the room to shut the window before climbing back in bed - wanting to spend the last three hours before school in a - hopefully - dreamless sleep.

_~Later that morning~_

Pete needed about another day's worth of sleep, but his alarm went off exactly four hours later. The Goth sword he felt a gaze on him as he woke, and flinched before turning to see if a certain psychotic someone was behind him. Alas, there was no sign he ever _had_ been. Nor was said male in sight. Comforted by the fact that Mike really had left for the night, Pete gave a sigh and allowed himself to relax. There wouldn't be another chance to once he stepped foot on the bus.

He took his time getting dressed and preparing for school. He'd be pretty mad about the first day of school regardless, but considering what was likely in store for him once he got there, he was going to be in a particularly foul mood.

If he discussed it with his mother, maybe he'd be able to move over to another state. That seemed like the only feasible way for Pete to get away from it all. Mike had an operation to run in South Park. He couldn't leave it and chase Pete to the east coast, right? It wasn't like the Goth had very many friends left, now. Mike forbade him from speaking to Henrietta and Michael, after all. The only kid he was allowed to talk to who wasn't a complete idiot was Stan Marsh, and from what he'd heard, he was usually too busy making goo-goo eyes at his alleged kosher boyfriend, Kyle Broflovski, for conversation anyway.

He decided that was what he would do. Pete could smell his mother's cooking from his room. He'd speak to her right away about it.

"Good morning, hun." Pete's mother greeted from the kitchen area of the trailer. "Sleep well?"

The Goth couldn't help but feel his dark mood lift a little when he heard his mother's kind voice and begins, "Hey mom, and I-" It was then the Goth's finally adjusted to the light, being a bit blinded at first since he usually kept his room darker than the rest of the living space, and what he sees makes his stop cold in his tracks - actually paling a bit.

There, just mere feet from him, was his mother happily cooking breakfast, with Mike sitting nonchalantly at the nearby table - the vamp leader smirking when Pete made eye-contact with him.

"What's the matter, Pete?" his mother asked once she saw her sons expression. "Is something wrong?"

Mike had a sly grin on his face. "Have a seat, buddy. Breakfast is nearly ready," he replied. There was no sense of malice in his tone. How he was able to discuss brutally murdering the entirety of South Park one by one and still sound pleasant around those not in on his plans was a mystery Pete wasn't sure he wanted an explanation for.

His plan to discuss relocation with his mother was thwarted before it even began. That was another thing to curse Mike's name for.

"I… Yeah, I just had a bad dream last night and just now remembered it… I'll be okay," he said. He wanted to very badly to tell her the truth. With Mike right there, though, it was a death wish for both of them.

His mother didn't seem to notice anything unusual, so she just went about her cooking. "Alright dear. Are you ready for school?"

With a glance at Mike, he gave a quiet sigh and said, "I guess I don't have a choice. School's gonna start even if I'm not prepared, so… might as well give it my best shot."

"That's the spirit, Pete. Persevere," Mike replied with a sly grin.

Pete took his seat at the table, opposite Mike. "Right...perseverance."

Pete's mother then finished making breakfast, and served it to the two waiting teens - who both ate in silence. In fact, it wasn't until the food had been finished and the boys were heading to school that either said another word to one another.

"I saw our schedules. We have most the same classes this year," Mike murmured to the Goth.

"How'd you manage to pull that one off?" Pete asked; using a bored tone to hide the fact he was actually a little scared Mike had been able to get them into almost the exact same schedule. "You're a grade higher than me, and an honors student. Shouldn't you have all advanced classes or something?"

"Let's just say I'm not without my methods," Mike replied with a slight smirk. "The only classes I couldn't get us together in were homeroom, and second period. But don't worry; one of my other minions will be there to keep a close eye on you."

_Comforting._ Pete thought to himself bitterly, but kept silent.

The two reached the bus-stop, and as they were waiting in the frigid morning air for their transportation the Goth couldn't help but notice the numerous "Missing Children" posters stapled to the pole catacorner to where they were standing. Instantly, he spotted the images of the kids who he'd been held hostage with, and one imparticular catches his attention. A familiar face that was long since burned into his memory.

_Firkle._

Just seeing the younger's picture caused a lump to form in Pete's throat, and the Goth quickly looked forward; trying to stay calm as he continued to wait for the school bus.


	2. Blast from the Past

"Here's a copy of your schedules boys. Have a great semester."

"We will, Principal Victoria." Mike and Pete reply in unison to the blonde educator. They then walked out of the gym, which had students lined up to the entrance waiting to be admitted, and began walking through the halls to find their lockers.

Mike grumbled. Something, for once, hadn't gone according to plan. "Damn… Looks like my locker is on the other side of the school. That's a shame. I'll be back as soon as possible, Pete." He smirked. "Stay out of trouble."

He didn't respond. He was just grateful that Mike wasn't around for a brief while. He sighed, feeling like he could think for himself and breath for a while. He wanted to take advantage of it immediately. It could be a long time until he got the chance to do it again.

He found his locker and put the combination in, placing all his books and other personal belongings inside. He left the top shelf of his locker empty, that is, except for a few personal pictures. Firkle, Craig, Tweek, Butters, Bradley, and even Bloodrayne would greet him when he stopped by to pick up his items for the next class. Pete gave a sad smile at the happy, grinning faces. He closed his locker and made to report to his homeroom.

"There you are, you bastard!" A familiar female voice shouted from down the hall. She sounded very unhappy. On edge, even.

Pete tensed up, instantly recognizing the voice as Henrietta's, and also heard a quieter male voice trying to calm her down; undoubtedly being Michael.

"Come on Henri; let's just go to our usual spot behind the school. He's not worth it."

"No Michael! I want answers!" Henrietta snapped back at him. Pete could tell by her tone that she was enraged, but didn't have a chance to flee before he felt her presence right behind him. She then harshly grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around so he was looking at her.

Pete saw that both Michael and Henrietta looked exhausted; emotionally drained even. He could see that, underneath their thick black eyeliner, their eyes were puffy - signaling they had been crying recently.

Henrietta sneered slightly before hissing out, "You better have a good explanation for what you did, you fucking prick!"

"Henri-" The taller Goth began to say; only to be cut off.

"I mean, I can forgive you suddenly being besties with _Vamp-Queer_and his minions, _maybe_even over-look you not replying to _any_of multiple text and calls we've sent you over the _past freaking month_, but _not showing up to Firkle's memorial_?! That crosses the fucking _line!_"

"Maybe he's just dealing with this in a different way, Henrietta." Michael suggested meekly; trying to get the enraged girl to calm down even the tiniest amount.

"That's not an excuse!" Henrietta defended; her glare never leaving Pete. "You don't think _we're_having trouble dealing with this?! Going to Firkle's memorial practically tore me and Michael apart, but we still went because _he was our friend_! Even kids from Firkle's class who _barely knew him_showed up to pay their respects, and _you_?! You didn't even care enough to send a _fucking flower_, and you knew him better than anyone! What makes you _so fucking special?!_"

The Goth held his tongue, but a rising need to talk built within him.

In all honesty, he had heard about the memorial for Firkle, and wanted to go with all his heart. But Mike had forbidden him from going the second he heard of the event. Whether it was to mentally torture Pete or to keep a low profile was unclear, but either way, it had crushed him.

Of course, the two standing before him could never know the truth.

"...Come on Henrietta; he's not gonna say anything." Michael said gently, placing a hand on the girl's pale shoulder as an attempt to bring her down.

"Fucking bastard. Fine. Go hang out with your new conformist friends, you poser, backstabbing… son of a bitch." She spat the words like vinegar before turning and storming off down the hall - Michael following close behind without giving a second glance to Pete.

When they were gone, the Goth sighed and turned back to his locker. He grabbed his books and headed for his homeroom. He nearly ran into Mike, who was coming from the other direction, and jumped so high he nearly dropped his things.

"Easy, Pete. No need to be so on edge." The head vampire says with a teasing smirk.

He glared at the vampire. He kept his voice low to avoid attracting attention, but he made sure the anger in his tone came through. "My friends - my _actual_friends, that have been there for me for as long as I can fucking _remember _- wanted me to explain why I couldn't go to Firkle's funeral, and I had to stand there in _silence_because I can't tell them. I am going to be on edge, _sir._"

Mike crossed his arms. "I'd watch yourself, Pete. You're letting your emotions get in the way of logical thought again."

"I don't give a fuck. I know that you said I can't tell anyone, but could you at least tell me a _lie _to tell them so they don't _hate me?_"

"That was the plan, Pete." Mike replied blandly. "To drive them away from you. Clearly they're no good for you, since they haven't noticed how distressed you _clearly_are. So much for being good friends."

The Goth didn't want to think that. He didn't want to think that Michael and Henrietta abandoned him since that fateful night. He curled his hands into a fist, but knew better than to swing. "They wouldn't. They aren't _like you._They're _people,_with _logic_and _thought._They're worried. I might be forbidden from speaking to them, but you can't keep them from speaking to me."

Mike saw the teachers about the hallway and knew he couldn't lash out at Pete. He put an arm on his shoulder, instead, acting all friendly and kind. The teachers couldn't see through the facade. He muttered in Pete's ear. "You lash out at me like that again, and I'll cut out your tongue with the dullest pair of scissors I can find. Got it?" He flashed a grin at a janitor, waving to greet him as they walked by.

Pete remained silent until they passed by him. "Except I'd end up drowning in my own blood. Then where would you be, with me dead? All of that was to get _me,_right?"

"I'd find a way. Drink your blood straight out of your mouth…" Mike's breath was hot on the Goth's ear. He could almost smell the blood on his breath. Pete wondered desperately why no one could see the panic he was vaguely suppressing. Not a teacher seemed to see the bruises on his wrists, the gashes on his face, the hickeys on his neck; the marks seeming to possibly be invisible to all but the two of them. Didn't _anyone_worry?

Even Henrietta or Michael?

No. He had to face facts. They wouldn't possibly worry for him. Not after he was forced to betray them. After all, Goths look out for one another, and if you do anything to upset that bond in the slightest, you were blacklisted for life; dead to them even.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and the remaining students left in the halls began scurrying to get to their classes.

"Look's like we better get moving." Mike smirked, slyly using the arm that was already around Pete to bring his skinny frame closer to him. "Wouldn't want to be late to class, would we?"

The Goth couldn't help but shudder slightly at the other words, and nods - letting himself be lead down the hallway by the taller teen next to him. Of course, he knew no one would pay him any mind. Thanks to being forced to hang around the vamp kids, people just assumed he was another pawn in their group, and that he was just like the others.

_If only they knew the truth; then they'd be concerned. _Pete thought to himself as smiling, blissfully ignorant students continued to pass by. _If only…_

The two eventually arrive at Pete's homeroom, pulling the other from his thoughts, and Mike finally released the shorter from his grasp.

"You'll meet me right here by this water fountain after this period ends so we can walk to first period together. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, m'lord." Pete replied; being careful to not draw attention by calling Mike "master".

"Excellent." MIke smirked; his fake fangs showing. "See you there then." The head vamp then glanced around to make sure no one was close by, and leaned in before whispering lowly once more into the other's ear. "And just remember; if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I _will _find out, and _you will_be tasting your own blood."

Pete watched as Mike left him to walk to the opposite side of the building, towards his own homeroom. The other was uneasy, that was certain. Why else he wouldn't feel the need to threaten him constantly? The Goth wondered what was going on. Mike mentioned that people were suspicious.

Although, even if he managed to find out what was going on, Pete doubted that he would be able to exploit it for his freedom. Fear was the only thing that kept him by Mike's side. Not friendship, blood pacts, or love. He wished he had the courage to fight him. If nothing else, he hoped for the courage to end it all and not be part of these killings any more.

Hell couldn't possibly be much worse than what he had going on, right?

Pete headed to class, figuring that if he was going to be at school, held against his will by the government - and Mike - he might as well spend it productively. He just hoped someone would ask what was going on...


	3. Eclipsed Ray of Hope

When Pete walked into his homeroom, very few people greeted him. It was a small class - smaller than anticipated. He wondered who would have been there if they hadn't been killed or pulled out of the town by parents out of fear of the mysterious disappearances.

Of the few people present, Stan was in the homeroom with him; which surprised him since he heard a rumor that the Marsh's were moving out of fear like so many others had. Pete felt a twinge of hope inside. Perhaps the athlete wouldn't hate him. The two weren't always the closest, especially after Stan got out of his short-lived Goth phase, but in these times, Pete would take whoever he could get - granted that Mike didn't already forbid talking to them.

Since his "vampiric transformation" as the others called it, Mike slowly began whittling away at what he was and wasn't allowed to do. Smoking was the first thing to go. Pete had been a week without a cigarette and it was still affecting his psyche. Showing emotion was the second thing. He couldn't express his nicotine deprivation or angst about his situation appropriately unless Vamp-Queer, as he still called him in secret, told him it was appropriate. Which it never was. Third was the coffee. Fourth, the ability to go to loved one's funerals - starting with Firkle's. Now, he couldn't even speak to Henrietta and Michael about other things even if they wanted to. He doubted they did. If he were in their position, he would likely have thought of the newly made outcast as a conformist. A poser.

_A traitor..._

"Hey Pete." The cheery voice of Stan suddenly greeted. "There's empty seats on either side of me if you want one them." The words seemed to pull Pete from his thoughts, and he quickly took vacancy in the desk right next to the jock.

"Er...hi." The Goth replied, a bit awkwardly; not usually use to conversation with anyone outside the society, Mike, or his mother. "Um...so, it's been awhile since we've seen each other. How are you?"

"Pretty good." Stan replied with a slightly sympathetic expression. "Although, I kinda want to know if you're okay. I've noticed you seem kinda down lately when I see you around Mike. Sort of like...your whole personality just changed overnight. And actually, it's sort of the reason I got your attention to sit next to me." The athlete then paused for a moment before slowly, almost carefully, asking, "I guess what I'm trying to ask is...Mike's not….abusing you, is he? Because from what I've heard about it, you're showing the signs and I'm not gonna stand by while a friend suffers."

The Goth's jaw nearly dropped.

He had convinced himself that no one genuinely cared about him anymore, but...there was Stan; asking him flat-out if Mike had been hurting him because he noticed how depressed he's been lately. Even though it didn't change the fact he'd never know the truth, it felt nice to know at least _one _person seemed to care about him.

"...No, he's not abusing me." Pete said slowly as he looked down a bit; trying to think of a lie to just tell the other so he could just switch the conversation over to another topic as soon as possible. "It's just...I've been a bit depressed lately is all. Ever since Firke's disappearance, me and the other Goths have been drifting apart. Mike is just helping me through it is all. Plus, it's the first day of school, so I just have a lot on my mind..."

"But it's not just in here in school." Stan pointed out. "It's all the time. Like the other day, I happened to see you and Mike walking downtown together, and even though you guys were holding hands and everything….you just looked so _miserable _with him. Almost _terrified_to be near the guy, actually."

_Damnit Stan, stop asking question! I'm trying to save your skin here! _Pete pleaded in his mind as he carefully considered what to say next. "Look, I see where you're coming from, but...Mike's been like my rock lately. I just feel safe around him, and feel that...it's okay to show how I'm really feeling inside around him. And I swear to you he's never done anything to hurt me before, and if he had, I'd already have him reported to the police. There's nothing for you to worry about."

The Goth inwardly admitted that the whole thing sounded like a lie, but hopefully, he put just enough of a convincing tone to it as to fool Stan.

The athlete stated at Pete for the longest time, almost assessing if he were telling the truth, before finally saying, "Well….okay then. Sorry for questioning you like that I guess. It's just that abusing someone is pure bullshit, and even though we haven't been that close since my Goth phase a few years ago, I just want you to know I always have your back."

"Stan...I...don't know what to say to that." The Goth said in a bit of awe. "Thank you."

"Hey, anytime. What are friends for, right?"

"Yeah…right." Pete said, trailing off slightly.

It was at that time the Goth wondered if maybe he should just damn the the consequences, and tell the other everything that had really been going on in his life. Sure, it was a risk, but at least someone would know of the atrocities against humanity Mike had committed.

At least someone would be there to help him.

Pete then mulled it over in silence for a few minutes, and finally, came to a decision to tell the athlete. With any luck, him and Stan could actually take down Mike, and get him locked away for a very long time; possibly even life. Of course, as soon as he finally got the courage to do so, the door to the classroom opened, and an excited squeal follows.

"Stan!" The familiar male voice of Kyle Broflovski shrieked out in excitement. "You didn't mention we had homeroom together! I thought I had to wait till next period to see you!"

"Hehe, I was just keeping it a secret to surprise you," Stan explained as a faint blush dusted across his pale cheeks; obviously happy to let himself get distracted off such a sensitive subject as that of abuse. "I had it switched this morning while you were at your locker. I couldn't go that long without seeing you, cutie pie."

"Aw! You are too sweet, Stanley!" Kyle gushed.

_Oh Jesus Christ…_Pete thought to himself while giving an eye-roll in real life. These two were making him sick at his stomach with their obnoxiousness. Where was Mike at the moment anyway? Maybe he could flip him off and get himself killed.

He had actually heard that the two had hooked up over the summer since Kyle had been the one who was helping Stan get over the pain of Wendy moving away with the rest of her family because of the disappearances, but he had never thought it was true. Actually seeing it however, Kyle sitting next to his raven-haired boyfriend and the two staring so intently at each other with their hands lightly touching, was on a whole different level than just hearing rumors.

Plus, thanks to Kyle's arrival, Stan was now hopelessly distracted. _Honeymooners._

_Damn it! My one opportunity to get help is gone! _The Goth growled in his mind bitterly. _That freaking idiot ruined everything! Who does Kyle think he is, anyway?! Now Stan won't be able to focus on anything except him! Bastards!_

The more the goth thought about it, the more he became infuriated at both of them.

And in his infuriation, he suddenly remembered the task Mike had assigned him earlier that morning when the vamp leader had snuck into his room: To get names for possible sacrifices. In the height of his emotion, he quickly got out a piece of paper and pencil, and without really thinking, scribbled down Kyle's and Stan's first and last name on the top two line; making sure to put the red-head's name in bold lettering out of spite.

When he was finished, he stared at what he had written, and after a moment, quickly folded the paper up before slipping it into his pocket before anyone could notice.

For the remainder of homeroom, Pete sat quietly by as Kyle and Stan continued to mentally undress each other; occasionally leaning in for a kiss when they saw the teacher had their back turned or was passing out papers on the other side of the room.


	4. Mysterion Returns

The bell couldn't ring soon enough.

Stan and Kyle being lovey-dovey for the duration of homeroom was _almost _as bad as being outcast by his friends. At least with Michael and Henrietta, there was an accepted futility in talking with him. Stan presented a sense of hope for the better. A light at the end of a long dark tunnel. Kyle's shadow eclipsing it was driving him insane.

And as usual, Mike came along when things couldn't seem to get any gloomier.

"Hello, my minion of darkness." Mike smirked as he strolled up the goth; his fake fangs showing. "I hope homeroom went as well for you as it did for me."

To anyone else, the comment would have seemed just like a friendly question of interest, but Pete knew better. The head vampire was never just polite like that. Every word he spoke, even every way he spoke it, had a hidden meaning behind it. The Goth was still learning some of the meanings behind Mike's voice keys and body language, but this time, he figured out pretty quickly what he meant.

He wanted to know if he had any names yet.

In response, Pete just nodded and slipped the piece of paper out of his pocket before handing it to the head vampire. Mike then gave what was written down a quick glance before folding it up once more, and slipping it into his leather jacket.

"I'll take them under consideration." Mike simply replied before turning his back to Pete. "I'm heading off to first period. I notice you don't have the book for it, so go to your locker and get it before heading to class. I'll save a seat for you next to me. Don't be late." With that, he then began strolling down the hallway, and Pete watched him until he was out of his line of vision.

At that moment, the goth suddenly felt a twinge of regret and guilt for what he had done.

Sure, Stan and Kyle's display of affection was unnecessary, but putting their names down as nominees for a death sentence seemed like a bit much to him now. Plus, the athlete had shown true concern for the other before Kyle's arrival, and Pete doing this to him was basically like stabbing him in the back with the dullest knife he could find.

Which, if he were to be picked for the ceremony, may very well happen.

_It's just a nomination._Pete reminded himself as the guilt caused anxiety to arise in him. _It doesn't mean Mike will automatically pick them for the sacrifice. There's plenty of other society members at this school writing twice as many names. The odds are in their favor._

With this self-reassurance, Pete felt the guilt he had leave and he continued down the hall.

Eventually, the Goth reached his locker, and gave a slight sigh before entering the combination. When he does, the door swings open without resistance, but notices that...something was different.

A note had been taped to the inside of his locker with the bolded words: **Keep out of sight, and destroy after** **reading **on the front of it.

Pete blinked in surprise, and reached up before grabbing the folded piece of paper. He then quickly glanced around to make sure no passing by students - or snooping society members, for that matter - were around before turning his full attention back to the note. He then carefully unfolded it, and with another quick glance to make sure the coast was clear, began reading the hastily-written looking words on the paper.

_Pete,_

_I know you know the South Park Vampire Society has a connection with the dissapears in South Park as of late. I've been trying to take down their operation - and don't even try to convince me there isn't one - since the first missing person report. Sadly however, I simply can't get close enough to the group to gain substantial evidence against any of them. That's why I'm reaching out to you. It's obvious their leader, Mike Makowski, has roped you into their scheme one way or another. If you'll be willing to cooperate with me, I can get you out of it with no questions asked, and take Mike and any other people responsible down in the process. Meet me in the janitors closet near the back entrance of the school during lunch, and we'll discuss things in further detail there. Tell no one of this meeting, and knock three times on the door for entrance._

_-Mysterion_

The Goth blinked, and reread the note several times over before his brain started processing the information it held.

Had this been why Mike seemed on edge? Because Mysterion, the vigilante superhero he and his former gothic friends only met once before, was after him?

Whatever the case, Pete knew he'd just reclaimed a chance to save himself from the truth of the society. All he'd have to do is meet with Mysterion, tell him of the atrocities Mike's committed against humanity, that the head vampire had even took out society members to keep his operations secret, and he'd be free. Finally…his nightmare could be over….

The late bell then rang, and snapped Pete out of his thoughts.

He then quickly disposed of the note as instructed - running it under a nearby water fountain to smudge the writing, and then ripping it to pieces before throwing the remains away in a garbage can - and grabs the book needed for next period before hurrying off down the hall toward the classroom.

_~Later that day at lunchtime~_

Classes seemed to go exceedingly slow for Pete ever since he read the note.

However, the endless waiting finally payed off the the Goth, and the bell to dismiss classes for lunch rang. Pete headed to his locker to retrieve his lunch - even under Mike's thumb, he refused to eat the garbage the schools served - when said vampire was waiting for him.

"Good afternoon, Pete." Mike greets as a teacher passes him in the hallway. As soon as they're out of earshot, the head vampire quickly checks to make sure the hall was clear before pulling the Goth closer to him and whispering in his ear. "I just thought I'd let you know there's been a change in plans. Some high-ranking society members and I were all in study hall together during second period, and we've made our selections from the nominations. The ceremony will be tonight at ten o'clock sharp, so sneak out of your room at nine thirty. I'll be there to pick you up personally, so don't make me wait."

"Oh….of course." Pete said. "Who's the sacrifice?"

Mike then gives the other a curled smirk before replying, "I'm afraid that's going to remain a surprise until later."

The vampire's words made him nervous. His old friends, the remaining Goths, were exempt for the selection, and they were the only enemies Mike really had left. Pete knew that. The head vampire targeted people he wanted to be rid of, but now, everyone was fair game. The bargain between Pete and Mike was the only thing that kept them alive. Mike was becoming notorious for going against his word though. This made Pete anxious. He wished within every iota of his being that he didn't target them.

But for now, it was lunch. If Mysterion could help them, Pete needed to tell him everything.

"O-Oh, okay, but… I-I forgot to mention I need to talk to the counselor," Pete stuttered. "Mr. Mackey's been calling my house lately to try and sign me up for grief counseling, so I better go quell him on the issue."

"Ugh...Fine. Just hurry up." Mike scoffs with an eyeroll.

Mike turned around before he could debate any further, and left to the cafeteria. When Pete saw him turn a corner, the goth rushed to the back entrance of the school as fast he could. He needed to explain everything to someone competent enough to at least provide some advice. And if Mysterion managed to actually _fix _this…

Nerves racked the Goth as he checked to make sure the coast was clear, and slowly approached the janitors closet - quickly proceeding to knock on the door three times.

"Mysterion?" The Goth whispered. "You in there?"

In response, the door slowly creaked open, and Pete leaned forward a bit. Then, out of no where, a hand grabbed the goth by his wrist, and pulled him in before he could even give a reaction. Once inside, Pete finds his mouth covered by a gloved hand, and a child his age dawning a purple cloak and mask nose to nose with him.

Pete recognized him to be Mysterion.

The superhero then lifted a finger from his free hand to his lips, signaling for the other to be silent, and the goth nodded in understanding. The kid in front of him then gave a small nod of his own, and slowly took his hand off Pete's mouth before reaching over and shutting the closet door behind them completely.

"I'm glad you decided to come." Mysterion said as he took a few steps back; his voice scratchy and unidentifiable to the other. "I hope your presence here means you're going to tell me the information I need to know."

"It does."

"Good. And no one knows you're here, correct?"

"Yes." Pete reassured. "I gave Mike some excuse that I went to the counselor. Knowing him, I most-likely have maybe...four, maybe five minutes maximum before he sends one of his cronies to check on me."

"That's more than enough time." Mysterion replied. He then pulled out a notepad and pencil from seemingly out of nowhere, and looks to Pete - giving him his full attention. "Please, start whenever you're ready."

The raven-haired goth nodded, and began telling his tale. He made sure that he didn't leave out a single detail for the superhero, which included having to recall the several murders he had witnessed the night he'd been captured, and he even confessed to writing down Kyle's and Stan's names as nominations for the sacrifice. The whole time, Mysterion was scribbling down sentence after sentence with a non-judging, almost blank stare - occasionally taking a pause as if he was mentally making sure he wasn't writing down the wrong information.

On the whole, thanks to no interruptions, it took about three minutes to get the whole story out.

"And so, I was forced to accept his trade." Pete says. "Ever since, he's been making me dress and act like one of his mindless followers, and I've had to go along with it. He told me specifically that the next sacrificing ceremony is scheduled for tonight at ten o'clock, but he wouldn't tell me who the sacrifices were. Apparently it's a surprise or something."

"Hm...interesting." Mysterion muttered as he scribbles the last of what Pete said down before looking back up. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No, that's it." Pete responded. "There's nothing else."

The mysterious child then quickly shut the notebook he'd been writing things down in, and put it away. "Thank you. This information you've given me shall not go to waist. Just act normal until the ceremony tonight, and before anything can start, I'll stop it."

Before Pete could reply his thanks to the hero, he heard a sound that made him jump. He feared Mike had found him, but he saw no one. He turned to Mysterion, but he had already vanished. Pete hoped that he could actually do something about his situation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the superhero wouldn't be sufficient in stopping the killings.

He hoped - prayed, almost - that he was wrong.


	5. Kyle

_Just act normal….just act normal…_

The goth just kept replaying the phrase in his mind, but was finding it progressively harder to practice what he preached as the endless seeming drive to the sacrificing area with Mike continued to drag on and on. He knew Mike couldn't have possibly known about his meeting with Mysterion, or the uprising that was sprouting right under his nose, but something inside him was screaming that the vamp leader _did _know.

That somehow Mike had learned of his treason, and that this trip was really just trick to drag him out to the middle of nowhere, kill him in some brutal and horrific way, and dump his body in a ditch never to be seen again.

Or worse...

_Stop it right now! _Pete mentally screamed at himself as he keeps a blank face. _Mike doesn't know about this! There's no possible way on earth he could! I destroyed the evidence for god sakes! Just relax, and bide your time till Mysterion comes! _Reassured by his own words, the Goth seems to visibly untense his shoulders, and decides to speak and break the silence.

"So… are you still not going to tell me who-"

"Nope." Mike replies blandly; cutting him off.

"If I might ask… why?" Pete meekly questioned; wanting to keep the conversation going.

"Because I don't want to risk telling if you know them personally." Mike responded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pete asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"I want to maintain any connections you have, but if we've taken someone you know… there's a different procedure." Mike answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

As uncomfortable as that statement made Pete, he couldn't help but feel it could have been worse. He felt a little better knowing that they were going to their place of operations, rather than the middle of nowhere, but he felt like they intentionally picked someone he knew.

"If… If I guess who it is, will you tell me?" Pete asked.

"No guessing. Now shut up before I stop the car and sew your mouth shut with a rusty needle." The head vampire threatened.

Pete kept quiet for the rest of the trip. Mostly because he was sure he'd crack if he had to actually speak out-loud anymore, but also because he knew just how insane Mike was, and that, if he didn't follow his commands, would follow through with what he said.

Soon, Mike suddenly pulled his car into a lot of an abandoned factory of some sort, and parked it in the shadow the building cast out into the night by the moonlight.

"We're here." Mike muttered, sounding distant.

Pete couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at his tone, but continued to not say a word. He then followed Mike's lead and slid out of the car before following the head vampire to a nearby door that was previously hidden in darkness. The other then produced a key from his jacket pocket, and with a fluent motion, unlocked it before pushing it open.

"After you." Mike smirked, gesturing Pete inside.

The Goth hesitated at this; having been to this building before, but not actually going in to be apart of the sacrifices. Mike always claimed he wasn't ready, in times past. He didn't complain. He was comfortable being as far away from it as possible. After the last time, he didn't want anything to do with it.

Alas, Mike wanted him front and center, this time. Was it a special occasion, then?

He quickly walked through the doorway; feeling the gaze of other lower-ranking members through the darkness. With Mike right behind, however, their glares didn't last long.

"Welcome to your first sacrificing, Pete." Mike said with a smirk; although shrouded by the shadow of night, it was given away by his voice. "Now, allow me to shed some light on those questions you were pestering me with." The head vampire then snapped his fingers, and soon, dim lights flickered to life.

Only half of the dark room was illuminated, but the bloodstained walls and floors remained in the dark with Mike's unneeded lackies. Mainly, the lights were overhead the chair where victims were strapped into for the blood-draining process. Duller lights, that were still shut off, were kept around the room so Mike could see who was left to be killed. When Pete closed his eyes, he could still hear the screaming of victim's past. Namely Firkle's.

"Brings back fond memories, doesn't it?" Mike asks; his tone dripping with dominance and tease.

Pete gulped; having several memories of the room, but none of them being fond whatsoever.

"Of course, I suppose it doesn't answer any questions." Mike continued. "So I won't keep you in suspense any longer." The head vampire snaps his fingers once more, and the rest of the lights in the area flicker to life.

The goth's heart almost stopped at who the selections were.

On the far wall, tied up to the metal frame of a bed, was Kyle, Stan, and a small girl with dirty brown hair he vaguely remembered as Firkle's former friend Karen McCormick, Kenny McCormick's little sister - all three of them knocked out in their respective holding areas.

"I must say, you suggesting these two was surprising." Mike says as a vicious grin comes onto his face. "But at the same time, it was a stroke of genius. I mean, Marsh and Broflovski are two of the most well-known kids in town. With them dead and gone, people here will become even more distrusting of each other then they already are, and eventually, they'll all destroy themselves from within! It'll be total anarchy at it's finest, and we'll have front-row seats! Oh, and if you're wondering about the little girl, she was nominated by one of the younger society members, so I thought I'd humor them."

Pete was stunned.

Never had he thought that Mike would ever take a suggestion he made, but to go as low as taking the nomination to sacrifice such a young, innocent girl? That was just a whole new level of twisted; even for the head vampire himself.

Before he even had a chance to protest, a voice was suddenly heard.

"Ugh….where...where am I?" Kyle said as he comes out of the fog of sleep. "Stan? W-What's going on? A-Are you okay?"

"He hasn't woken up yet. That's the thing with tranquilizers. They affect everyone differently. Just means you're the first one," Mike sneered.

It was bizarre being on Mike's side of things. It likely got very repetitive, hearing so many people say pretty well the same thing. Pete sympathized with Kyle and felt guilt gnaw at him like a starving rat. He kept flashing back to when he woke up to hear Firkle crying and screaming…

He wondered what it meant to be the first one awake, but of course, he would never ask.

"T...The first one?" Kyle asks drowsily. His eye then happens to catch sight of Stan and Karen tied up next to him, and this seems to shock him awake. "O-Oh my god! Stan! W-What are you doing with him?! Let him go!"

Mike gave a dark chuckle. "I haven't done anything to him, yet. When he wakes up, however, he'll see you being drained drop by precious fucking drop of blood. And he will be powerless to stop it." He turned to the Goth and smirked. "Pete… prepare Kyle for the ritual, will you?"

Pete knew he didn't have a choice. He walked over to Kyle and took him from the bed frame. The redhead tried to get away from him, but the goth somehow managed to keep him from escaping. Perhaps it was fear of his own life. Mike constantly reminded him that he could be killed with ease, and he knew he wasn't bluffing. Bloodrayne attempted to challenge him. The result was one of the many thoughts that plagued his nightmares. Pete whispered to the victim, "I am so sorry…" but he doubted Kyle heard him over his screaming.

"Let go of me this instance!" Kyle shrieked as he squirmed in the other's grip.

Of course, Pete knew he couldn't do that. Instead, he forced the curly redhead into the chair, and holds him down as he straps him in place - making escape virtually impossible. At this, Kyle's struggling turns to tears, and he starts to have a break-down then and there.

"P-Please! Just let Stan and I go!" Kyle pleaded; tears beginning to run down his face. "Whatever joke you're playing on us, it isn't funny!'

It was torture for Pete to watch Kyle like this.

He couldn't help but think it must have been how he sounded when it was Firkle's life being taken. Before he sold his soul to the vampiric lucifer incarnate….

"Oh, poor delusional Kyle." Mike smirked as he shook his head slightly. "This is as far from a joke as it gets." The head vampire then strolled over to the Jewish boy, and leaned in as close to Kyle as he can get before giving the darkest smirk he can muster. "I'm going to kill you slowly, _painfully_, and your little athlete boyfriend will watch the whole thing. I'll personally make sure he sees the very _light in your eyes _fade out, and before he can even have a chance to mourn, I'll kill him too."

"You're...you're a monster." Kyle whispered out; the utter terror surging through him almost enabling him to speak at all. "You're the one behind the disappearances!"

"Glad we're now on the same page." Mike replied with the same smirk still on his face. He then took a short pause before backing off of Kyle slightly - only to turn his head toward Pete. "Minion, go get the supplies. It's time to begin."

"P… Pete...how could you do this?!" Kyle sobbed as the other obeyed his dark master without hesitation. "Isn't Stan your friend? Aren't I?" The goth fought back the urge to wail with the victim as he went back to Mike with the supplies. He closed his eyes as he handed over the syringe and tubing; the guilt making him feel as though he had rotted from the inside out and maggots were now crawling through his very blood. Kyle kept demanding an answer, and Pete was still at a loss for what to tell him.

Mike had a despicable smirk. "I was wondering that myself. Why _did _you pick them?"

"I…" He wanted to take everything back. He wanted to punch Mike in the face and hook _him _up to the bloodletting rig, to take Karen and Kyle and Stan as far away from this place as possible. He knew he wouldn't make it far with so many other vampire's near. The cult wouldn't let them escape under any circumstance.

He feared most of all that even if Mike died, someone would simply take up his work.

"Neither of us can hear you, Pete," Mike murmured. "You're gonna have to speak up. I've not cut your tongue out...yet."

He knew if he wanted to stay alive, he just had to give the answer Mike wanted to hear. Just act normal like Mysterion said. He steeled himself and took a breath, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat when he recalled that Firkle might have been in the same situation.

"...I have no friends, Kyle." Pete finally responded; his voice barely being kept steady. "Only targets, and the society."

The redhead's expression then turns to one of utter shock, "B-But...w-what about the other Goths? Don't you...still care about them?"

"I...I've outgrown them…" Pete replied, choking past the pain in his throat formed by the immense emotion. The truth was, Henrietta and Michael would always be dear to him, and in a different way, Stan would be too. The lie he uttered made it more painful because he feared that, deep down on some level had yet to access consciously…

It might be true.

"Well, you've gotten your answer," Mike stated, waltzing back up to Kyle, syringe in hand. "But I've grown bored of this idle chatter." The head vampire then sees that the raven-haired jock next to him was still knocked out cold, and gives a slight huff. "It seems your boy-toy really took to the tranquilizer. No matter. I'll just start my fun without him."

Then, before another word could be uttered, Mike drives the needle deep into Kyle's pale neck - causing the other to cry out in pain.

Blood then begins rushing through the tubes, and Pete couldn't help but get an eerie sense of deja vu as Mike let's the liquid drip into the waiting wine-glass he held between his fingers. After it was filled to the brim, the vampiric sociopath then lifts the glass to his lips, and takes a savoring sip. Although, this time, his usual smug look of satisfaction didn't follow the tasting.

In fact, his expression was one of disgust.

"What trickery is this?" Mike said; his nose scrunching slightly. "Why the hell is this blood so damn bitter?"

It was then Pete happened to recall something about Kyle that Stan had told him some time ago, and realized the answers. "M'Lord...he's a diabetic. According to Stan, it's not as bad as it could be, but it does limit his diet substantially. It may be nothing, but it could also be what makes his blood taste the way it does."

"Hm...possible." Mike muttered before pouring the blood that remained in his glass on the floor. "Nevertheless, his blood is useless to me now."

"But...sir...what else would we do with him?"

The head-vampire grins wickedly at the goths question, and chuckles eerily before replying. "Oh, we're still going to kill him if that's what you're asking. We're just going to have to use our..._imaginations _to do it."

Pete shuddered at how Mike used the word "imagination", and meanwhile, Kyle's sobs of fear were only growing more and more intense.

"P-Please...let me and Stan go." Kyle pleaded. "We won't tell anyone about this; I swear."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sure you wouldn't." Mike cooed in an uncharacteristically sticky-sweet tone. His pale fingers then clasped onto Kyle's chin, and he forcibly tilted the others head upward - causing their eyes to lock. "But why would I take the chance?"

With his free hand, Mike grabbed the tubing, and with a swift motion, yanked it free of Kyle's neck. Frail skin tore with it, and the younger howled in agony - the knot in Pete's stomach twisting tighter and tighter every second. Without a moment's pause, the head vampire then slipped out a switchblade from his back pocket, (the goth immediately took notice it was Firkle's; a slight anger rising within him at the realization) and jabbed it into the already open wound left by the pulled out syringe. He then slowly dragged it across the boy's neck; leaving behind a huge gash in its wake and causing massive amounts of blood to come dripping down the Jewish child's neck.

Pete watched in horrified silence through the whole thing.

Before long, his life was over. Just as his eyes lost focus, he made eye contact with the Goth and sputtered out through blood, "I… hate… you."


	6. Stan

If Pete felt anymore guilty, he'd rip out his own stomach. And it was made worse when he heard Stan begin to stir from his forced slumber.

"Ugh… Wha…? Ky… Kyle? Wassa matter?" He opened his eyes and saw his boyfriend mutilated and bloody, with a dead-eye stare, much like that of a fish. Fear gripped the athlete and he screamed. "WHAT THE HELL?! KYLE! OH GOD! KYLE! NO! NO!"

The Goth couldn't help but notice the head vampire smirking ear-to-ear at this.

The hysterical ones entertained Mike the most, Pete realized. He flashed back to his own kidnapping when he recalled that Tweek had been among the victims and screamed more than anyone else, to date, and Mike had eaten up his panic like it was candy. That haunted, terrified look on the blonde's face would never leave his memory. The look of torture as Mike kissed him right in front of Craig was the worst, though. Pete briefly wondered if he looked similar, when the vampire kissed him.

Stan then proceeded to break down for a whole five minutes before finally calming down enough to take in his surroundings, and when he does, the Goths familiar face is the first thing he sees. "Pete… Pete is that you?! What the hell happened here?! What's going on?!"

Mike gave a taunting smirk. "Yes, Pete. Explain what happened to your friend's lover."

Was this a trick? Mike had explicitly stated that no one was to breathe a word of their actions to anyone, even within the society, unless it was with Mike himself or his close-lackeys. Pete was ranked the lowest of the low - likely due to his association with the Hot Topic incident - and found that this meant he earned the hatred of the rest of the society, save Mike of course.

So when Mike declared for him to clarify the death of poor Kyle Broflovski, it was no surprise he was taken aback. Did he expect him to say nothing, per his word? Did he expect a curt, "He was killed and deemed unfit for the ceremony."? Did he imagine Pete saying something dramatic, like Mike was known to do? Did he expect him to tell the truth, as unlikely as it seemed?

But yet another thought was nagging at his thoughts. Where the fuck was Mysterion?

"Well?" Mike asked, glaring at his captive minion with a hostility like cold fire. "Don't you have anything to say to him?" The rage melted away as an understanding gaze took over. "Oh... Of course. I had forgotten. You don't have friends. Only targets and the society. You've outgrown "friends" if I'm not mistaken."

"Pete...?" Stan whimpered, stifling tears.

"...I'm sorry Stan….but it's true." Pete speaks up; his voice coming out very steady and cold. "I'm no longer in need of your type of companionship. All I need in my life to make me happy is the society. And nothing is going to change that."

The horrendous, blasphemous, lie made Pete go from feeling like trash to scum of the world. But...it was what Mike wanted to hear.

"I"m glad to hear you say that." Mike states as a smirk forms on his features; his fake, faintly blood-stained vampire fangs showing through for the first time that evening. "Because, as it just so happens, I have business that needs attending to. And since you don't need anyone else but the society...you won't have a problem finishing off Stanley here while I step out."

At that moment, the Goth swore he felt his heart stop for a whole five seconds.

"...w-what do you mean….f-finish him off?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Mike hisses; sounding slightly annoyed now. "I want you to kill him. End his pathetic excuse for a life. Whatever you want to call it, just get it done, and have it finished by the time I get back. There will be serious consequences if you don't."

He has to be bluffing. Pete told himself in his mind. There's no way he can make me do this. He said himself at the last sacrificing that I was far from ready.

"B-But...you told me last time...I-I was far from ready to do this." Pete stutters out.

Mike just gives an uninterested shrug before saying, "Plans change. Oh, and just so you don't get any big ideas about freeing the two remaining prisoners," The head vampire then paused to bring his fingers to his lips, and gives a loud, attention grabbing whistle. "Hey! Vladimir! Get over here, and make sure Pete kills Marsh! I need to step out, and make a very important phone call."

In moments, a pale boy with dark-purple highlights emerges from the shadows.

"Of course, my dark master." Vladimir replies as obediently as a dog to it's owner. "It is my greatest pleasure to serve you."

"Indeed." Mike says dismissively; obviously not in the mood for the other male's excessive brown-nosing. "Just see to it that Pete fulfills his obligations while I'm away." With this, the head vampire then turns, and walks out of the room without another word.

The air felt thick as Pete slowly walked towards Stan with a somber gaze. He wanted to apologize. With Vladimir over his shoulder, it was nerveracking. He hadn't ever killed anyone before. He threatened to, of course, but that was different.

The Goth held the tubing and syringe in his hand. He made the god-awful mistake at looking his victim in the eyes. Stan was hurt. Betrayed. Stung, even. Mostly afraid though. Afraid and confused. With a friend like Pete, revealing to be part of the group behind the vast string of disappearances, how could Pete even judge him for that?

"I… I'm so sorry…" Pete whispered, trying not to let the tears welling up in his eyes fall down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry…"

"I… Just… Why?!"

"I-I can't tell you…"

"Why, Pete?! Why do this?! Why do this for the vampires?! For your enemies?! They're the ones who took Firkle, aren't they? He's dead now because of them, isn't he?! And Craig and Tweek too! And Butters and Bradley and…" The athlete then trailed off, and a sudden look of realization filled his eyes. "...You fucking monster...you...you killed Kyle!"

"Stan, you have it all wrong!" Pete argued. "I was dragged into it just like you two were! Like they all were!"

"Oh, sure, and I bet you were "dragged" into murdering Kyle, too!"

"Enough!" Vladimir interjected the quarrel; taking a small step forward. "You've stalled long enough, Pete. Either finish him, or Mike 'll finish you."

"J-Just...give me a goddamned minute!" Pete hisses at the other; refusing to actually look at him. "Can't you let me have a freaking second to talk to him?!"

"Yeah! This psychotic bastard has some explaining to do!" Stan sneers.

"No, Mike has forbade you from any sort of communication with the victims." Vladimir replies coldly. "Either do as he commanded now, or face his wrath later."

The Goth felt a lump in his throat, and his hand clutched the syringe tighter. He didn't have a choice now. Slowly he gave a nod, and shakingly positioned the device; trying his best not to meet the athlete's angered glare. Drawing a shaky breath, he then closes his eyes, and forces himself against every fiber of his being to slam his arm forward.

Stan screeched in pain as the needle pierced his neck.

"You bastard!" Stan hisses out; wincing only slightly. "You unbelievable prick! When I get free of these restraints, you're dead! You hear me?! Dead!"

"Good luck with that." Vladimir says with a smirk. "Craig Tucker himself, the strongest kid at South Park Elementary, couldn't break free of those straps. You're not nearly as strong as he was, Marsh. You're screwed."

Blood started pumping from his veins, taking his strength with him as every little drop began pouring out of him; bit by bit and drop by drop.

Knowing full well that speaking aloud would cause suspicion, Pete mouthed his words to Stan once he saw the other's struggling dying down via blood-loss in hopes he could explain himself before it was too late. "I'm doing this against my will, and I didn't mean a word of what I said earlier. I just said what Mike wanted to hear. I'm so, so fucking sorry, Stan. I'm...I'm so fucking sorry..."

"I… I knew something was up…" Stan stuttered in a low voice, starting to feel a bit drained as he continued his futile attempts to pull at his restraints. "W-Why didn't you just… say so?"

"I would have been killed… I'm just...so fucking sorry…" Pete whispers.

"It… It's okay, Pete. I...understand now." Stan struggles to reply.

Pete felt tears form in his eyes as Stan became pale and cold to the touch. He was clinging to life with every ounce of his strength. "Please," Pete whispered. "I-If you see the others in the afterlife… Tell them I failed, and that...I never meant for this to happen."

"Hey! What are you mumbling over there?" Vladimir hissed.

Pete coughed, trying to get past the searing pain in his throat from choking back tears - refusing to let them roll down his cheeks. "I… was telling him how this was inevitable. No one will escape us…"

"...Carry on then. So I can hear, of course." The vampiric cronie says with a satisfied smirk.

Vladimir, so help me god, if I ever get the courage to, you're next on the list of people to kill. Right after the chief bastard himself. Pete thought, wishing the cruelest death possible on all the vampires, knowing deep down that he would not be the one to inflict it.

"I have nothing more to say. I hope he rots," Pete replied. Stan gave a small smile, knowing the truth was the opposite of his words. He had a lot more to say.

"I'm still your friend, Pete. I... don't blame you for this." The athlete whispered out; the light in his eyes fading more and more with each passing second. "And….I know you'll find way to stop this….I-I believe in you."

Stan slipped away soon after that, and it took all of Pete's composure to not lose it then and there and blow his cover.


	7. The Plot Thickens

Pete closed his eyes so as to not look at Stan's lifeless body and whispered. "Is there… somewhere quiet I can go? M-My head really hurts…"

By time he opened his eyes, Vladimir had crossed over to where the final victim was being held, and begun to idly braid her dirty brown hair out of sheer boredom. "Wait until after the ceremony. We have one more to go. Unless something stupid happens, it should only take fifteen more minutes at the most, once Lord Vampir returns."

Pete could only nod in response, almost having totally forgotten about Mike's preferred surname, and turns his back toward Stan's corpse - knowing that he'd have a break down if he dared looked at it once more.

Minutes passed in silence, and the Goth just spends it starting at a blood-stained wall. The silence remained until a small stirring was heard from Vladimir's direction.

Pete then turned toward the last victim, and to his greatest displeasure, Karen was waking up. He watched as her brown eyes slowly began fluttering open, and once her vision adjusted, a look of surprise comes across her face.

"Ken...w-what's going on?" Karen asked; her voice barely above a whisper.

Before anything else could be done, her wide brown eyes suddenly catch glimpse of Kyle and Stan's dead, blood-stained bodies. Her face paled in fear, and it was obvious a shriek of terror was soon going to follow. Of course, before the scream even left her lips, Vladimir quickly shoved his hand against her mouth - muffling any sound she dared try to make.

"If you scream, I swear I'll personally cut out your tongue." The older threatened. This instantly causes Karen to clam up in fear, and Vladimir give a satisfied smirk. "Smart girl. Now, keep it like that until your execution if you don't want a premature murder." With that, the paler of the two then takes his hand away from the others mouth before goes back to braiding her dirty-brown hair, and the little girl who the hair was attached to just sobbed in silence.

The scene was almost sickening for the goth to watch.

Pete fell a sensation deep within his gut that told him to act. He felt anxious - even more so than usual. His rage was now even more justified than before. He felt as though he had a righteous cause this time - not that he never lacked it. There was something especially evil going on even for the vampires. Mysterion wasn't coming. Pete gave up hope on him. He knew deep down that he was going to have to be the one to do something about these twisted bunch of murderers. There wasn't just the desire to do so. He knew he would now, though. There was a fraternal instinct to it.

Because, in that moment, Pete no longer saw Karen as Karen...he saw her as Firkle.

The taller suddenly felt his rage turn into drive as Vladimir casually kept braiding the softly sobbing girls hair, and decided to run over to the scene and pry the older away from her; consequences be damned. Of course, after he took a few measly step in their direction; Pete felt a hand place itself on his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

"I suggest you contain yourself, Pete, lest you let your emotions get the better of you." Mike muttered from behind him in a cold, commanding tone.

_Shit. _Pete hissed, within the safe confines of his mind.

"Ah, Lord Vampir. Welcome back." Vladimir greeted his dark master; letting the strand of the young girls hair he had been braiding fall out of his hand. "You'll be happy to know I made Pete carry out the task he was assigned in your absence."

"I can see that." Mike commented blandly; giving a short glance to Stan's corpse. "I suppose all there's left to do now is kill the girl, assign body disposal duty, and we can go."

Karen whimpered in fear at this comment, and Pete closed his eyes once more.

_How'd things come to this? _Pete asked mentally. _All this cruelty...this hatred. How could I have honestly believed some superhero would just swoop in, and save the day? Why do I keep clinging to fleeting rays of hope? Why…_

"Pete." Mike suddenly said; bringing the other out of his thoughts.

The Goth then snapped himself back into reality, and found that the vampire leader was right in front of him. The taller held the bloodied syringe and tubing out for the shorter to take, and a malicious grin dominated his features.

"I want you to take care of this one as well."

Pete felt as if his heart dropped into his stomach. "...what?"

"I said want you to kill this brat off." Mike hissed; clearly annoyed with having to repeat himself. "I feel you're getting a little too comfortable around here. You don't do much to support the society. Pull your weight, and kill the girl so we can head home."

Karen had a look of terror in her eyes that matched the look Firkle had when he was in her situation. She couldn't be that much older than he was when he was slain. Pete looked at the blade in his hand and felt a certain responsibility take hold of him. It was taking the form of rage as potent as hellfire.

"...Mike… you can't make me do this.''

The icy look the vampleader sent the goth was so intense Pete would've sworn it was a look that could've frozen hell over twice. "Excuse me? Did you just r_efuse _to carry out _my _order?"

"YEAH, MIKE. I FUCKING DID! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. I AM NOT DOING ANY OF THIS BULLSHIT ANYMORE." He took a breath and balled his fists. His voice got low as he muttered, "I'm going to stop you for the sake of everyone."

Mike glared at Pete with a dangerous glower, eyes full of rage. Rather than heated, his was icy cold, almost soul-piercingly so. The other vampires in the room stopped what they were doing to watch the now inevitable death match.

"Vladimir… Remove Karen from the grounds, but don't let her escape. I've decided we have another target tonight. A _traitor._"

"Yes, m'lord."

The kid was quickly injected with a round of anesthetic, and once she was asleep, was removed from her confinements by Vladimir before he stepped outside with the young child's skinny form in his arms. When she was finally gone, Mike paced towards Pete and grabbed him by the throat. He threw the Goth to the ground, drawing Firkle's blade and pointing it at him. "You do _not_ betray me! I _spared _your worthless life, you _ungrateful bitch_! I'll make you suffer _greatly_ for your treason!"

Pete stood up, unshaken. "No! Enough is fucking enough, Mike!" He took the nearby "wine" bottle and broke it on the floor, using the neck of it as a handle. "I am _tired_ of the death. I am _tired_ of the guilt! _I am tired of being your BITCH!_ And I'm not standing for it anymore…plus, I only agreed to this hellish life to save Michael and Henrietta! Not because I _actually liked you!_"

The last thing Pete said seemed to hang in the air.

The vampiric leader's expression was completely blank for a few minutes, but then his lips slowly turned themselves upward into a smirk - his mocking laughter filling the air shortly after.

"You think I didn't _know _that?!" Mike asks in a belittling tone. "Do you think I _believed _you had feelings for me?! That you magically changed your opinion of me over these few months?! No! Just because I built this whole thing on an infatuation doesn't mean I didn't get over it! Hell, Bloodrayne was my personal whipping bitch like you were at one point, but I still killed her just fine! And if I can kill a society member who I was _actually friends with_ before this whole thing started; I'll certainly lose no sleep over ending your useless existence!"

The goth felt a panic rise in him, but before he could move a muscle in an attempt at escape, MIke had gotten face-to-face with him.

Pete gasps slightly in surprise, and jabs the broken "wine" bottle toward the other. Of course, the vampiric sociopath grabs his wrist before the bottle even made it within an inch of him, and bends the others arm harshly - causing a sickening snapping sound to echo throughout the room and a collective "Ou!" from the watching society members follows.

"AH!" Pete cries out in agony; almost certain his arm was now broken.

The vampire whispered in Pete's ear in a lone, dangerous tone that set off all kinds of warning bells in the Goth's head. "Do you know what the _very best_ part was, Pete? It wasn't keeping you here. No. It was watching you _willingly _be my _bitch,_ night after night."

Pete's own rage was stoked by this. Enough was enough, like he had said. He was going to find someway to make up for it. He was debating on somehow killing himself so Mike wouldn't get the satisfaction. It was looking appealing. It almost caused a smirk to appear upon his pale face.

Almost.

The victim stood a little straighter in the others grasp. "What the fuck do you even think you can do to me that you haven't already before, huh? You've beat me, mentally, physically and emotionally. Whatever I endure won't be anything by comparison. Even all that pales to the abuse I put _myself_ through for allowing it to go on for so long! Bring it on, bastard. The sooner the _fucking _better."

A long silence followed the comment, and all observing eyes seemed to be on Mike; anxiously awaiting for his reply.

"You know what Pete...I'm not even going to drain you of your blood." Mike murmured as if the other hadn't even said a word; the twisted wheels in his head clearly turning. "I'm going to watch in satisfaction as you die helplessly in my grasp, and then when you're dead and gone...I'll round up your two remaining 'friends', and murder them in the most brutish, _creative_ way I can think of. But who knows; it all depends on the mood I'm in when I have them dragged here. I may force both of them to be my _personal _servants, or maybe just give one of them a lobotomy and keep them as a brain-dead pet while the other _rots in chains_."

The goth only became more enraged at the others comment.

He hated the thought of Michael and Henrietta being at the mercy of Mike, and he would've told the other off, but unfortunately, the others pale hands gripped tightly around his windpipe cut off any noise the other tried to make.

Pete soon became lightheaded due to lack of oxygen, and he was almost positive that, in just mere minutes, he would be choked to death.

That is...until a voice suddenly cut through the silence.

"M'Lord! I have something of the utmost importance to report to you!" A random vampiric lackie suddenly called as they suddenly burst into the room.

Mike barely even acknowledge the others presence; not letting his grip loosen on Pete's throat. "This better be good Fang, because if not, I'm killing _you_ after this traitor."

"I-It is!" Fang reassured; his voice showing how shaken he was by the head vampires threat, and the sheer surprise of the scene before him. "T-There was this kid sneaking around outside, a-and we saw he was trying to break in here through the roof. So we captured him, and brought him in here since you'd most likely want to have a say in how we disposed of him"

Thankfully for the goth, this caused Mike's grip to give-way just enough for him to get a steady stream of air into his lungs, but something much larger was taking place at the moment for him to really process it.

Pete had a sinking feeling in his stomach he knew who the prisoner was, and when he craned his head to look past Mike, his suspicions were confirmed.

Mysterion.


	8. Mike

"You'll never get away with this, you bastards!" Mysterion hissed as he tried desperately to get out of the grips of the vamp-kids restraining him to no avail. "I have proof now! I'll take Karen and Pete to the authorities, and once she gives a testimony on what occurred here tonight, you'll all be sent to prison for the rest of your pathetic lives!"

"Oh, give it a rest you Bruce Wayne reject." Mike replied blandly. "If there's one thing I can't stand; it's a goodie-two-shoes hero like you rambling on and on about justice. Although...I will commend you for actually finding out where our center of operations was. You've been trying your hardest to find it since day one, but was always one step behind my brilliance. Now here you are now; suddenly on the same page as us. It's almost as if you had someone-" Before the head vampire finished his sentence, a sudden realization hit him, and he lets his words trail off before slowly turning his head to the goth before tightening his grip on the others throat once more. "...it was _you_, wasn't it, you _fucking_ rat?! You gave away our location!"

Pete gave a smirk and managed to choke out, "What can I say? The irons were in the fucking fire since day. Fucking. _One._"

"Fang!" Mike screamed; causing all the watching society members to wince. "Execute that son of a bitch! I still need to deal with this traitor!" His leer became pure ice and hatred towards Pete. "I shouldn't even kill you. I should drag you damn near to death's door and drag you all the way back to health and back again until I get tired of watching you watch your miserable existence flash before your eyes. I should put rubbing alcohol in your veins. I should make you swallow nails and screws." He had a sudden flash of dark inspiration. "I should have my lackies go out and bring in Michael and Henrietta right now, and break every one of their bones one. By. One. I should drown them in each other's blood. I should do all that and strap you down and make you watch."

Pete wasn't sure why, but he started to laugh. There was nothing remotely humorous about this situation, but...something in him just couldn't help itself.

It was confusing, but it seemed to puzzle his attacker as well, so he stopped caring. He let himself laugh louder and louder; rational thought becoming less and less predominate as he did so. Mike let go of him, slightly unnerved by the action, and took a small step back.

"You… heheh… You think they still care for me?! HAHAHA!" He stopped laughing and in turn, grabbed Mike by the throat. It was _his _turn to be psychotic and dangerous. "They stopped giving a fuck about me a _long_ time ago. Because of _you. _You know that, Mike?"

The vampire maneuvered out of the Goth's grasp and quickly picked up a nearby syringe. "That was kind of the plan, you simpleton."

Mike stabbed at Pete with the syringe, cold fury dictating his movements. Pete managed to block the attack and broke the thin metal needle. He grabbed the nearest thing he could to retaliate - a metal pan for holding the grisly tools used in the killings. He swung it, and the resulting ring of a metal-on-bone collision resonated through the dark hall. Mike stumbled back, dizzy from the blow. He shook his head and kicked Pete's stomach, knocking him to the ground. He pinned the goth to the ground and used his nails to scratch at Pete's eyes. He was starting to draw blood.

Pete somehow managed to roll them over before the assailant could do too much damage, and was now pinning Mike down - his rage allowing him to ignore the flaming pain from his broken arm. He grabbed both of the vampire's arms and broke his right hand with a jerking movement. Mike yelled in pain, but was cut off by the arm on his throat. Pete was leaning on his windpipe; prepared to choke him out.

Mike brought his knee up forcefully, landing a blow to Pete's stomach. It bought him a breath or two and some time to stand up. Pete's fiery anger and rage was still burning like a wildfire. He grabbed Mike by the collar of his shirt and dragged him over, with the other still struggling wildly, to the unprocessed buckets of blood.

"You want to drink it so fucking bad?!" Pete demanded. "Here!"

Before Mike could weasel his way out of Pete's grasp, he forced the faux vampire's head into the bucket, submerging his face in the thick, cool liquid. The goth couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Mike struggle to break free. He was just that happy. He was finally going to be free of the head vampire's tyranny.

He lifted Mike's head from the bucket once he saw his struggling weaken, and gave a dark smirk. "Who's the bitch now?" he muttered. He repeated it, louder this time. "WHO'S THE BITCH NOW?!"

He then held him under once again, and watched intently until the bubbles came to a slow stop. Mike was dead. Mike was _dead._ _Mike was dead!_

"MIKE MAKOWSKI IS DEAD!" he exclaimed, turning to all the vampiric underlings. "THE BASTARD IS FINALLY DEAD, AND BY MY HAND NONE THE LESS! VENGEANCE IS MINE AT LONG LAST! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The watching society members were in utter shock. Younger members were wailing, and hiding behind the older kids for security and protection. Some were whispering to others that they should all make a break for the exit while they still could, and everyone else was cringing with every word Pete roared out.

And why wouldn't they be reacting this way?

There before them was their leader, one who they swore would be the death of the world, laying lifeless on the floor soaked in the blood he planned so carefully to obtain.

Fang was the current voice of all the vampires, but even then, the voice that resonated was shaken, afraid, and pleading. "W-What do you wish of us, sir?"

Pete grabbed Fang by the collar and forced the low-ranking vampire to meet his gaze. He kept his voice very low, so that Fang could barely hear, even being that close to him. "My friend… I want you to leave me… the _fuck_… _ALONE._ You leave everyone in South Park alone. EVERYONE. That includes the other Goths. Fuck it, that includes everyone on this damnable Earth." Pete raised his voice again so that everyone in the room could hear. "IF I HEAR THAT ANY ONE OF YOU HAVE STARTED THIS BULLSHIT AGAIN, I WILL MOTHERFUCKING _CRUCIFY _YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

There was a unified, "Yes sir," from the others.

The Goth couldn't help but give an egotistical smirk at the collective obedience. "Good," he murmured. He kicked Mike's corpse. "Get rid of him for me. You don't have to make him 'disappear', but make sure they don't trace him back to me."

"W… What are you going to do now, sir?" Fang asked, keeping his head low.

Pete wasn't sure. He hadn't had a plan for what he was going to do once he got free. He never imagined he could make it that far. He always thought something would backfire down the line. Mike would bust him and execute him on the spot. It was a near failure, true, but he somehow pulled off what seemed impossible and survived a fight to the death against him. He hadn't thought past that, until that moment.

"...I'm going home."

"...what?"

"You heard what I said!" Pete shouts. "Screw all of you, I'm going home!"


	9. Peace after the Storm

It was a quiet, sunny spring morning in the small town of South Park.

Pete sat quietly with the other Goths in their usual place behind the school; the same brand of cigarettes lit in their hand and the same black clothing on their backs as they sat back and watched poser after poser, which consisted of some that had actually moved back to town in news of the kidnappings finally stopping, go about their lives mere feet away.

"Seems the season of allergies is once again upon us." Michael states blandly.

"Yeah." Henrietta adds. "Maybe this year we'll get lucky, and the high pollen count will have all those preppy little cheerleaders at home coughing their lungs out during recruiting season."

Pete nodded in agreement, but deep down, he knew something wasn't right.

He knew that, while things seemed to have fallen back into normalcy in the months of having rid the world of Mike's twisted brand of evil, the two still resented him. That, no matter how many packs of cigarettes he could possibly offer them as a sign of friendship, they would never forget what he did. In fact, the Goth wouldn't be surprised if the two blamed him _personally_ for poor young Firkle's demise. He blamed _himself _for it, after all.

Pete felt an anxiety rise in him at the thought, and shook his head to rid himself of it.

Ever since that night where he had drowned the head vampire in the tub of blood, two things had never happened: He never talked about the events that took place while under Mike's dominating hand, and never once spoke of the murdered victims he personally watched die before him. This means he never told Henrietta and Michael the truth of what happened.

Maybe one day he would, but for now he'd spare them the pain of the truth. He only saw himself fit to carry it on his shoulders.

He also had inklings of fear for their safety.

Ever since his snap in the fight with Mike, he had more or less regained control over the powerful rage inside him; as well as popped his arm back into place to avoid any suspicious seeming hospital visits. Of course...it didn't stop him from having vivid, gorey images about what _could _happen to the two if he lost control like that again.

Anxiety rose once again in Pete as his thoughts began to deepen, and he snaps himself out of it before anything too horrific could drag him down.

And although, while it seemed shitty on the surface...there was some hidden silver lining.

With Mike gone, Pete was finally able to visit all the graves of his fallen friends - including Firkle's. He visited the younger's most often, and every time he went, he was sure to bring a red rose for the fallen kindergarten; tears in his eyes as he'd sputter out apology after apology to the carved stone.

It wasn't completely necessary, but it made his heart feel less heavy over the loss.

It also must have unloaded quite a bit of mental strain as well, because the goth now seldom had nightmares. Sure, there were still a few here and there, but nowhere near as gruesome as they had been before. Plus, as an added bonus, the South Park Vampire Society practically disbanded after the brutal murdering of their leader. Only a few brave souls continue to wear the clothes, but none had the moxie to officially rally the society back together; lest they challenge Pete's newfound authority.

Pete was thankful for this fact, but..at the same time still remained vigilant.

This is mostly because of Vladimir, the only vamp to miss Pete's uprising, had fled town. The last he heard via note from Mysterion (who had actually escaped Fang's grasp and took off after Vladimir once he discovered he had Karen while him and Mike were having their fight as he later learned), the vamp had ditched a still unconscious Karen on the side of the road before hopping a train that lead to who-knows-where. SInce then, no one has heard nor seen the purple-highlighted vamp-kid; including even his parents.

Him returning was actually one of the things that haunted Pete's new nightmares….but after all the hell the Goth was put through, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Pete then took a long, casual drag on of his cigarette, and blew the resulting plume of smoke into the breeze; watching it swirl and rise before disappearing completely as he continued to wonder about the uncertain future ahead. He was hopeful. Things were starting to look up. A new day was dawning, despite the darkness on the horizon. He knew things wouldn't ever be the same, but...they would get better.

They had to.

_~Fin~_

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Alright everyone, this is the official last chapter of the "Darkest' series. Please leave your opinion in the comments, and let me know if I should do a quick two-to-three chapter follow-up on this. :)**_


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